Making history

I awoke with a quiver to find myself in bed, Jane snoring lightly beside me. Not an unattractive snore I should point out. A gentle, elegant snore. I listened and watched for a while before noticing the alarm clock beside her.

Ten minutes past four. Hm.

We had returned from the party early, no later than half past eight. What happened after that?

I had thrown up. Natch. Then what?

I guessed I must have showered and crashed. No wonder I was awake. I had slept nearly eight hours.

I became aware that my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and that a great thirst was upon me. So maybe that was why my body woke me up.

I slid off the bed and padded nude to the kitchen, the bones in my feet cracking on the floor.

The window above the kitchen sink looked out over fields, but the sky was already light, so I modestly pulled down the blind before leaning forward to hook myself over and pee into the plughole. A deliciously naughty feeling, which I justified to myself by reflecting that this quiet piddle was less likely to wake Jane up than a great plunging wazz into the bathroom toilet. Besides, W H Auden always pissed in sinks. Often when there were piles of crockery in them too.

I ran the tap until the water was icy cold and I ducked under the mixer to drink. I gulped and gulped and gulped. Never had water tasted sweeter.

Don't need an aspirin. No headache, that's the joy of voddie.

More than no headache, though. I felt wonderful. As great as Frosties. I simply rippled with well-being.

I stood panting, the water dripping from my chin and down my bare chest.

It was ages since I had felt so alone. When the world around you is asleep, that is when you are truly alone. You have to rise early of course. Many times, when

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working on the thesis, I had stayed up as late as just this hour and felt miserable and lonely, but waking up as early as this, that is when you feel gloriously, positively alone, there's the difference. Much better. Mm.

I stalked to the bread bin, enjoying the slap of my feet on the tiles. Not too warm, not too chilly. Too exactly just right. I tore off a hunk of bread and inspected the fridge.

I don't know why I find it intensely erotic to stand naked before an open fridge, but I do. Maybe it's something to do with the expectation of a hunger soon to be satisfied, maybe it's that the spill of light on my body makes me feel like a professional stripper. Maybe something weird happened to me when I was young. It is an alarming feeling, mind, because all those assembled foodstuffs put ideas in your head when you're on the rise. Stories of what you can do with unsalted butter or ripe melons or raw liver, they crowd your head as the blood begins to rush.

I spotted a big slab of Red Leicester and pulled off a piece with my hands. I stood there chewing for some time, buzzing with happiness.

That was when the idea came to me, full born.

The force of it made me gape. A mashed pellet of bread fell from my open mouth and at once the blood flew upwards to the brain where it was needed, leaving my twitching excitement below with nothing to do but shrink back like a startled snail.

I closed the fridge with my shoulder and turned with a giggle. My head was pounding as I tiptoed to the study. All my notes were piled onto a shelf above the computer. I knew what I was looking for and I knew I could find it.

I mention the state of sexual arousal that preceded the birth of my idea because I have a theory, looking back, that a subconscious part of my mind, pondering

the thought of some kind of sexual release, with or without the use of unsalted butter, olive oil or liver, had wandered to thoughts of semen. Thoughts of semen had awoken an affinity (something to do with reflecting on the

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absence of a headache while drinking from the tap perhaps), a connection in my memory which then caused synapses to fire off in all directions until the idea screamed itself awake in my consciousness. It's only a theory. You can be the judge of it.

Making Movies TIM.

FADE IN: EXT. ST MATTHEW'S COLLEGE - MORNING

A GARDENER is mowing the court of the lawn in Hawthorn Tree Court. A bell chimes the hour.

CUT TO:

INT. ST MATTHEW'S COLLEGE, OUTSIDE LEO'S ROOMS - MORNING

MICHAEL stands outside the Professor's door, thumping on the oak eagerly. He is carrying two large Safeways carrier bags.

LEO (O/V) Come in!

MICHAEL laboriously puts down the bags, pushes wide the door, picks the bags up again and enters, hooking the door closed behind him with his foot.

LEO looks up from his computer in surprise. LEO Michael!

MICHAEL (nervously) Professor, I have to talk to you.

LEO Sure, sure. Come in, come in.

INT. ST MATTHEW'S COLLEGE, LEO'S ROOMS -MORNING MICHAEL is blushing, nervous and out of breath. He moves to the centre of the room but seems unable to know what to say. LEO stares hard at him.

LEO (continuing)

Sit down, I get you a cup of coffee.

LEO disappears into the gyp-room. HOLD on MICHAEL. We hear, as before, coffee cups rattling and a kettle being filled, OFF.

MICHAEL walks over to the bookshelves and looks at them once more. He is restless. He taps his teeth nervously with his fingernails. He is coming to a decision.

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MICHAEL

(raising his voice) Professor . . .

LEO (coming out)

How many times do I have to tell the boy? My name is Leo.

MICHAEL

Leo, like I'm no scientist, you know, but isn't it true to say that when Marconi invented the wireless the first thing he did was make a broadcast?

LEO What do you mean? MICHAEL

Well, he couldn't on.ly receive, could he? I mean, there weren't any signals to receive, were there? So he had to transmit and receive.

LEO nods his head slowly. LEO That makes sense. MICHAEL

Cool. So what I'm saying is, the discovery of ... what do you call it ... wireless telegraphy?

LEO Wireless telegraphy, sure. MICHAEL

The discovery of wireless telegraphy meant the ability to receive and to broadcast. Otherwise it would have been pointless, yeah?

LEO Quite pointless . MICHAEL

And you said that your machine . . . what you showed me yesterday . . . (breaking off as a thought

strikes)

. . . what's it called, by the way? LEO Called? What do you mean? MICHAEL Its name. What's its name? LEO

(puzzled) Name? It doesn't have a name. MICHAEL Oh. Maybe we should call it (thinking) . . . we should call it Tim. LEO

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Tim? MICHAEL

Yeah, as in 'time' . Or . . . hang on! Yeah, it could stand for . . . er, what was it you said? 'Temporal imaging . . . ' So, Tim stands for Temporal Imaging Machine . Cool! Tim,. Tim. Like it.

LEO Tim. Okay, we call it Tim. MICHAEL What was I saying? LEO

(with a shrug)

Something loosely connected with Marconi . MICHAEL

Right, right. You told me that Tim was like a radio set that could only tune in, but couldn't transmit.

LEO That's what I said. MICHAEL

Well, what I'm saying is, any half-way competent engineer could take an ordinary radio, muck about with it a bit and

turn it into a transceiver, right? LEO

An ordinary radio, yes. But who's talking about an ordinary radio?

The kettle starts to WHISTLE angrily in the background. MICHAEL

It's the same thing! The same principle. (beat)

You can do it, can't you? You know how to! LEO meets MICHAEL'S eager stare.

LEO I get the coffee. MICHAEL

(calling after him) You can! You can do it!

MICHAEL follows LEO into the gyp-room. LEO is pouring boiling water into a cafetiere. MICHAEL watches in a state of suppressed excitement.

MICHAEL (continuing) It's true, isn't it? It is.

LEO holds up a finger for silence and with calm deliberation assembles, on a tray, a

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jug of milk, a little bowl of sugar and a mug for his own hot chocolate. He picks up the tray and goes out: MICHAEL follows close at heel, still bubbling with excitement.

LEO puts down the tray, watching MICHAEL'S energetic pacing out of the corner of his eye.

LEO

Now I know why they call you Puppy. You follow people about, you pant, you yelp. For all I know you piddle on the floor as well.

MICHAEL I just want to know . . .

LEO

(interrupting) Listen. Sit down and listen. MICHAEL drops sulkily into a chair. LEO

(continuing)

While I pour your coffee, you listen. You know nothing about the device I have constructed, this Tim. You know nothing about the physics behind it, nor the" technology behind it. I described it as being like a

radio set because I thought that was something ... a model, an analogy . . . that you could understand. (handing him a cup of coffee) But that does not mean that this device, that Tim really works like a radio set. Such an analogy falls down in all kinds of ways.

MICHAEL (defiant)

But you can, can't you? You can!

LEO picks up his chocolate and leans back. He closes his eyes.

LEO Yes. In theory it is possible. MICHAEL (triumphant)

I knew it! What did I say? We can go back! In time. LEO

Not go back. I can, as you put it, transmit. At least I believe I can. It is possible. In principle it is possible. MICHAEL So we erase him! If we wanted

to, we could liquidate Hitler.

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LEO

(violently) No! Absolutely not! But . . .

MICHAEL LEO

You think the thought hasn't crossed my mind? You think the idea of being able to rid humanity of the curse of Adolf Hitler isn't something I think of every minute of my waking life? But listen to me, Michael, listen to me. The day I was first told what happened to my father, what happened there in Auschwitz, that day I made myself a promise. I swore before God and the Universe that never, ever, would I involve myself in war, in murder, in the harming of another human being. You understand me?

Respect.

MICHAEL LEO

So don't talk to me of killing. MICHAEL

That's cool. I read you. But if that's all true then tell me this. Why were you so wild to read my thesis? And why did you invite me to your lab and show Tim off to me? When I asked you yesterday, when I said, 'Why me?' you remember how you replied? lA feeling, ' you said. Remember that? A feeling. What did you mean 'a feeling'? LEO I'm not sure. I - I don't know.

MICHAEL

Yes you do, Leo. You thought I could help you, and I can. 1 can help you wipe the memory of Hitler from the face of the earth.

LEO is agonised. LEO

I told you, Michael! I said to you. I cannot kill. I have sworn.

But MICHAEL is ready for this. He replies with a pleased smile.

MICHAEL Who said'anything about killing?

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LEO stares at him. MICHAEL beams triumphantly and takes out his wallet. He scrabbles around inside and holds up, between forefinger and thumb, a SMALL ORANGE PILL.

CLOSE on the orange pill. MICHAEL

(continuing: smiling wickedly) We.just make sure the motherfucker is never born. Know what I'm saying?

CUT TO:

EXT. ST MATTHEW'S COLLEGE - DAY

CRANE up to the window of LEO's rooms. At the same time we see the outline of LEO, drawing the curtains shut. MUSIC: SAINT-SAENS ORGAN CONCERTO.

CUT TO:

A MONTAGE of shots in various locations at different times of day.

INT . LEO' S ROOMS - DAY

LEO and MICHAEL pore over an old street map of the town of Brunau-am-Inn in Upper Austria. MICHAEL is pointing to a particular street. LEO nods and makes notes.

CUT TO :

EXT. NEW CAVENDISH LABORATORIES -AFTERNOON High establishing shot, moving from the Royal Observatory over the road to the huge tanker of Liquid Nitrogen, the forest of satellite dishes and the Physics Laboratory.

CUT TO:

INT. LEO'S LAB - AFTERNOON

MICHAEL is sucking from a litre bottle of Coke. He is perched on a stool and watching LEO as LEO tests part of 'TIM' , LEO's device. TIM has its casing stripped off, and various probes attached to the circuitry inside.

CUT TO: INT . MICHAEL'S NEWNHAM HOUSE - MORNING JANE wakes up and sees MICHAEL sprawled, fully dressed on the bed beside her. She gives him a nudge. He rolls over and, with his back to her, continues to sleep.

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JANE frowns: puzzled. CUT TO:

INT. ST MATTHEW'S COLLEGE, PORTER'S LODGE - MORNING

MICHAEL, yawning, is inspecting his pigeon-hole. He pulls out a small yellow

parcel. He turns it over in his hand and sees that it bears an Austrian postmark. He rips it open excitedly. We see that it is a bundle of schematics, facsimiles of blueprints or plans of some kind. MICHAEL is very excited.

MICHAEL walks out of the porter's lodge, his head buried in what he is reading. He barges straight into DOCTOR FRASER-STUART, who is wearing a fetching kimono. MICHAEL apologises hastily and instantly goes back to reading.

FRASER-STUART looks back towards him, mystified. CUT TO:

INT. ST MATTHEW'S COLLEGE, LEO'S ROOMS -MORNING The furniture is pulled to one side and the floor is covered with the schematics MICHAEL received from AUSTRIA.

LEO watches from his chair, his fingers hovering over the keyboard of his COMPUTER, while MICHAEL, lying on his stomach, carefully traces a line of conduits with a highlighting pen on the schematic. He stops, takes a pair of dividers and measures a section against a scale on the side of the schematic. He calls out to LEO, who taps a number into the COMPUTER.

CUT TO: EXT. NEW CAVENDISH LABORATORIES - NIGHT Establishing shot of the physics lab by night. We move in on a burning light on the first floor.

CUT TO: INT. SATELLITE COMMUNICATIONS ROOM - NIGHT

A hi-tech palace. Television monitors in a row are labelled v Met. Sat IV, vGeo.Sat.II' and so on. The screens show thermal-imaging pictures, weather systems, spectrographic analyses and similar images. Below them

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desks of knobs, lights and keyboards. Dazzling and expensive.

MICHAEL is perched on a bench, pulling a wedge of pizza from a box. There is a security badge pinned to his T- shirt.

LEO, also equipped with a security badge, has TIM open on a stool under a satellite comms desk. Cabling is connected from TIM to the control array.

MICHAEL watches, faintly bored. The TV monitor above TIM shows an area of Central Europe at dusk. Underneath is given the

time.

Suddenly MICHAEL jerks upright and looks at his watch. LEO looks up with horror.

CUT TO:

INT . THE NEWNHAM HOUSE - EVENING

JANE is sitting at the kitchen table, elegant in a beautiful black evening dress. A half finished bottle of wine is beside her.

The door flies open and a panting MICHAEL stands there. JANE gives him a murderous stare.

CUT TO:

INT. ST MATTHEW'S SENIOR COMBINATION ROOM - NIGHT

JANE and MICHAEL enter the S . C . R. in evening dress. MICHAEL'S collar is awry, he is pink, shiny and panting, Jane is pale and angry.

The S.C.R. is filled with chattering FELLOWS and GUESTS, also in evening dress. JANE grits her teeth and beams apology at the MASTER of the college, who does not look pleased.

MICHAEL stares across the room at the immaculately dressed LEO, who shakes his head, tut-tutting and looking at his pocket-watch reprovingly.

CUT TO:

INT . ST MATTHEW' S OLD HALL - NIGHT

A formal banquet is taking place at High Table. College STEWARDS, white-gloved, are

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